I Belong With You (And You Belong With Me)
by Queenie Z
Summary: Several years after the events of ALBW, Queen Hilda and her husband, Prince Consort Ravio, attempt to reestablish Lorule's international alliances with a grand ball. The evening goes awry, however, when an arrogant foreign prince passes judgment on Hilda's choice of husband, and the royal couple discover that, sometimes, keeping up appearances simply isn't worth the effort.


**I Belong With You (And You Belong With Me)  
** _ **by Queenie Z**_

His brow furrowed and his tongue protruded slightly in deep concentration, Ravio adjusted the small, golden crown upon his head. Then, ever so gently, he smoothed and fluffed the thick, purple mess he called his hair around it until it rested comfortably. With a slight turn and nod of his head to make sure it was secure, he grinned to his reflection in the mirror, beaming at his accomplishment.

" _Finally_ ," he said, twirling around to show off his headpiece. "Hey, Hilda! I think I finally got it to stay on!"

The young queen finished applying her lipstick and turned towards her husband. "Oh, you did, did you?" she said with a small smile.

"Yeah, take a look," said Ravio, bobbing his head back and forth as the tiny crown stayed firmly its place, to which Hilda chuckled slightly.

"Oh, good," she laughed, "I was hoping you'd figure something out." She tilted her head. "How did you do it, anyway?"

"Some bobby pins, some string, and a whole lotta patience," he replied cheekily, holding a finger up for emphasis. "If you were worried about having a repeat of the wedding, then fret no more! I can assure you that no crown slippage will occur this evening."

Hilda's chuckling turned into bright laughter as she remembered the incident in question; when she married him nearly two years prior, she had insisted that he wore the crown her late father had worn at his own wedding, though she began to regret that request as her poor groom spent half of the ceremony trying to keep it from sliding off of his wild, fluffy hair. Now that he had managed to secure it in place, however, she had to admit that he looked quite dashing in it.

"It looks wonderful, Darling," she said, taking his chin gingerly in her fingers. "I'm sure the emissaries will all be quite impressed."

Ravio scratched his nose bashfully. "Heh, thanks," he said. "Though, I was under the impression they were coming to meet _you_ , Hilda... Not sure they'd want much to do with _me_. I'm not the one with ruling power, after all."

"Don't phrase it like _that_ , Ravio," said the queen, inspecting his attire before straightening out the silk sash tied over his shoulder. "Just because I will be doing most of the talking doesn't mean that they won't want to meet you as well." She smiled as she let go of his clothing. "I may be reigning monarch, but you are just as much a part of the royal family as I."

The young man gulped slightly. And here he was, thinking all he'd have to do as prince consort was hang out and look pretty on his wife's arm...

Hilda returned her hand to his face, stroking his cheek tenderly. "You seem so nervous, Ravio," she said, "but I'm sure you'll do fine. Just turn on that merchant's charm of yours and try to enjoy yourself, all right?"

With an anxious grin, Ravio nodded, placing a gloved hand upon her. "A-All right," he stammered, "whatever you say, Hilda..."

She gave him a peck on the cheek, just lightly enough to not leave a mark. "Thank you. It means a lot to me." She turned away to finish applying her makeup. "And feel free to help yourself to the wine if you think that will help. Just - try not to go overboard, will you?"

He gave her a thumbs up. "Right! No drunken shenanigans. Promise."

With a nod, Hilda reached for her makeup brush, when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the first of a train of stagecoaches approaching the castle outside of the window. She furrowed her brow.

"We should hurry," she said, hastily putting on her blush. "The emissaries are about to arrive."

"Ack!" Ravio returned to his mirror and made final adjustments to his outfit. "Okay, all right, just need to get this thingie taken care of, and..."

* * *

One of the items on Queen Hilda's list of rebuilding objectives, after taking care of the immediate needs of her people, was to reopen the gates of Lorule Castle to foreign powers and reestablish alliances lost centuries prior. The crumbling of the land and its slow descent into anarchy had completely isolated the kingdom from the rest of their world, leaving it in an embarrassingly vulnerable state as far as foreign policy was concerned. Without a strong military of its own, any hostile intent from other nations would result in yet another catastrophe for Lorule. For this reason, the queen cordially invited her neighboring lands to a grand ball, hoping to leave them with a good impression and establish a sound foundation for international friendships.

While many of the nobles who attended were indeed emissaries, the queen and her consort were also surprised to see quite a few royals and ministers attending in person. While this did put quite a bit more pressure on the royal family and cabinet, the majority of the evening went smoothly regardless. After a rousing keynote speech from Hilda highlighting Lorule's tremendous growth and her vision of a peaceful, prosperous future for their world, the festivities officially began. While the prince stayed put near the refreshments, sipping his wine and sneaking pieces of fruit to Sheerow in between forced pleasantries, Hilda herself was busy being herded around from ambassador to duke, from empress to duchess, engaging them in conversation with refined social grace. At one point, she found herself being introduced to a young prince from a land to the west, with slicked, golden hair and rounded ears, attending on behalf of his father, the king - and, like all the others, she conversed courteously with him, retaining her regal composure throughout.

The man took a sip of his wine, then glanced about the great hall. "I must confess, Your Grace," he began, "in my country, your kingdom had all but become a myth. Until recently, I had merely assumed the land of Lorule to be nothing more than a fairy tale."

Hilda sighed slightly, holding her wine glass gingerly but not taking a drink from it - she had made it a habit to refrain from drinking during formal events, though she held the glass to give the appearance of sharing the frivolity with her guests. "Yes, well, I suppose that would happen, given our - troubled history and isolation."

The foreign prince nodded sagely. "Growing up, I would often hear stories of how Lorule was a cursed kingdom, the source of all the monsters that had come to plague our country in recent years." He gave Hilda a warm smile. "...But it appears that the legends have painted your kingdom in an unfair light. I must apologize for any misconceptions I may have brought with me - Lorule is truly a beautiful land," he raised his glass slightly, "with an equally beautiful queen."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his transparent brownnosing, Hilda returned the smiled instead. "You're far too kind, Your Highness," she said, touching her glass to his with a _clink_.

After taking another sip, the prince continued. "It's only the truth, Your Majesty! One would have to search far and wide to find a queen as fair and radiant as you."

He then offered his hand; knowing this was an offer to kiss hers, Hilda intentionally gave him the hand bearing her wedding ring. "Thank you," she managed to say without laughing. "I'm sure my _husband_ with agree with you."

The young royal froze in place, blinking at the ring slightly before removing his hand to cover his mouth as he cleared his throat. "Er... ah, yes, well, he certainly has impeccable taste."

Hilda couldn't resist smirking slightly at his reaction; however, she quickly recomposed herself and began to change the subject. "You mentioned that your kingdom lies near the sea," she said. "I'm certain your trade is quite robust - as lovely as Lorule is, we are unfortunately landlocked."

"Oh, yes, quite robust! Especially in recent years as the seas have calmed, and - "

" _Hilda_!"

The next thing she knew, Hilda felt a pair of arms around her shoulders, almost causing her to spill her drink. Immediately recognizing it as her husband, she smiled lopsidedly and spoke to him in a low, flustered voice.

"R-Ravio, Darling," she said, patting his hand, "you do realize I'm having a word with the good prince, don't you...?"

"Oh, uh," Ravio let go of her, chuckling sheepishly; his cheeks were flushed, and Hilda could tell that he was starting to become the slightest bit tipsy. "S-Sorry about that..."

"It's quite all right." Hilda took him by the shoulder and turned him to face their guest. "Your Highness, I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Prince Ravio."

The other prince looked Ravio up and down, seemingly unimpressed. He offered him a reluctant hand. "...Prince Marcellus the Fifth," he said somewhat dispassionately. "A pleasure."

Though he noted the foreign monarch's demeanor, Ravio was willing to pay it little mind. He shook Marcellus' hand. "Same to you, buddy!"

"Ravio also serves as the kingdom's treasurer," added Hilda, taking her husband's arm. "And before we were wed, he was my right hand. He has a long and proud history of service for our kingdom," she turned to him. "Isn't that right, Ravio?"

Ravio snickered and scratched the back of his head. "Eheheh! Well, uh, I guess when you put it that way..."

He quickly glanced back at Prince Marcellus, who was cocking an eyebrow at in an almost judgmental fashion. After a short, awkward silence, Ravio took his wife by the shoulders.

"Well, uh, I guess I'll leave you two to, uh, do your thing. You know, your royal thing." He planted a quick kiss on her cheek. "And _you_ , beautiful, owe me a dance tonight! Don't leave me hanging, okay?"

Her cheeks turning slightly pink at his antics, Hilda sighed. "Yes, Darling. I'll be there shortly."

"Great! Excellent." Ravio began walking away backwards. "Love you, Dearest!"

The two royals watched the third nearly trip over his feet, only to save himself by spinning around on his heel. After regaining his balance, he strolled away, humming a cheerful folk song as he made his way back to the buffet table.

Hilda gave him a small wave, then returned her attention to Marcellus. When she saw the incredulous expression on his face, however, she frowned.

"...Is something the matter, Your Highness."

Marcellus finished his glass of wine, chuckled to himself, then set the glass down, crossing his arms as he shook his head. "Oh, no, nothing, Your Grace. It's just..." He began to snort in amusement. "...Your husband is quite the character, that's all!"

Though she often described Ravio in similar words, something told Hilda that the foreigner did not mean what he said endearingly. "And... what exactly do mean by that?"

"You honestly don't see it?" With a sneer, Marcellus placed a hand at his hip. "Milady, the man sticks out like a sore thumb, especially next to you. _You_ , Queen Hilda, are the picture of beauty and grace, and your husband..." He reached towards a passing servant's tray and picked up another glass of wine. "...Well, perhaps it's just me - or perhaps just the wine - but his mannerisms seem more fit for a court jester than a prince."

Hilda felt her stomach tighten at his thinly veiled insults. She gritted her teeth as a dark look crossed her face. "He is a good man, Prince Marcellus," she seethed with as much composure as she could muster, "and just as much a royal as you or I."

Marcellus could only laugh once more. "Hahaha... forgive me, Your Majesty, but - how in the world do you expect your people to respect you after marrying - " he pointed towards Ravio, who was now attempting to play fetch with Sheerow using a bunch of grapes, " - _that_? How could someone like him ever protect you or your kingdom?" He patted the ceremonial sword attached to his side. "If you don't mind my frankness... you deserve a more _respectable_ husband, someone who will fight for you, someone who - "

A loud _crack_ and the sound of breaking glass echoed through the great hall, silencing the musicians and partygoers. All heads turned towards the queen, her hand raised defiantly, and Prince Marcellus, doubled over with a hand to his cheek and a broken wine glass at his feet.

Hilda's hand shook as the crowd began to mutter amongst themselves. Even Ravio froze in his tracks, dropping his grapes and staring wide-eyed at his wife.

"H...Hilda...?"

The queen hissed as she spoke, her words laced with a quiet rage. "How _dare_ you speak of my husband in such a way, you _cur_?"

Shocked, Marcellus finally looked back towards her. "Y...Your Majesty, I - "

" _Silence_!" yelled Hilda, causing the crowd to gasp slightly. She looked around - she knew she was causing a scene, she _knew_ it, and yet she didn't care in the slightest. She could take the criticism of her cabinet, the jeers of her people who still held a grudge against her family, but to hear such vile things about her Ravio, the kindest, purest heart she had ever known...!

She extended her arm towards her husband.

"My people," she said, "owe _everything_ to this man. He has sacrificed _everything_ , even risked _treason_ , for my sake and that of our kingdom. He is the reason our children can go to school, the reason we can afford to feed every needy family in Lorule - and you _dare_ say he's unworthy of his title!?"

Marcellus sulked in silence; meanwhile, Ravio simply watched the scene with Sheerow, flabbergasted.

"...And even if he _were_ as unworthy as you claim," continued Hilda, lowering her arms, "that wouldn't change the fact that I love him - that I _chose_ him, not for you, not for my cabinet, not even for my people... but for myself." She blinked back tears. "Ravio has brought more joy to my life than any self-absorbed, spoiled _child_ like you ever could - and that alone should be reason enough for a queen to marry...!"

The crowd began to buzz once more - some in shock at the queen's outburst, some in tears at her moving words, and some in disapproval of the young royal who has earned her ire - but their reactions were not on Hilda's mind at the moment. She drank her entire glass of wine in one, long gulp, sat it down, then undid her hair until it fell loose. She then walked over to Ravio, taking his hands and squeezing them tightly.

"...I don't want to be here anymore, Ravio," she choked, lowering her voice to a near whisper. "Please... take me away from here."

His mouth hanging open, he stammered. "H-Hilda... but, what about - "

"I don't _care_ about the party. I don't _care_. I just..." She rested her head on his shoulder. "...I just want to get out of here. This hall. These... _people_ , judging you... judging _us_..."

Ravio looked around at the crowd, who were still staring at them expectantly. He then looked towards the mortified prince, trying to make his exit from the scene unnoticed - clearly, whatever he said had set her off, igniting all of the stress and anger she had built up beforehand. And while he wanted nothing more than to find the bastard and give him a piece of his mind, he knew that Hilda's well being came first. He looked down towards her and placed his hands on her face.

"...All right," he said softly. "We're leaving."

She nodded. "Thank you."

As he began to lead her out, he addressed the crowd. "Okay, folks, show's over, nothing to see here. Her Majesty is going to, uh, take a break for a bit." He approached a nearby servant. "Keep them entertained for us, will you?"

The servant curtsied. "Y-Yes, of course, Sire."

As she left to gather the other servants and redirect the party back to their festivities, Ravio and Hilda slipped out the back door and into the main hall of the castle.

* * *

The couple walked in silence, with Sheerow following close behind. Though they were approached by the occasional concerned guard and castle staff, Ravio politely dismissed them, allowing Hilda her space to recompose herself. Indeed, he was no stranger to his wife's intense emotions - not that he blamed her for harboring them in the slightest - so he knew better than anyone that what she needed now was time, patience, and a shoulder to lean on.

They had made their way to the upper floors, heading in the direction of their chambers; Ravio figured it would be as good a place as any to give her the privacy she needed. However, before they could approach the door, Hilda stopped him with a hand to his chest.

"...Not that way," she said hoarsely.

The young prince tilted his head at her. "Then, uh, where _did_ you want to go, Hilda?"

"Outside," she replied, lifting her weary gaze towards him. "...I've spent far too long indoors. I - I want to see the stars, for once."

Ravio blinked a bit at her request; then, he flashed her a warm smile. "All right, then," he said, rubbing her shoulder a bit as they changed direction. "The walkway, then?"

Hilda nodded with a small smile of her own. Yes, the outdoor walkway always had a magnificent view of the kingdom - truly, it would be a sight for her sore eyes. Once they had arrived, Ravio signaled for the patrolling guards before turning his gaze to Sheerow.

"Keep an eye out for any nosy people, would you, Sheerow?"

Sheerow chirped in affirmation. At this, Ravio grinned.

"Thanks, buddy. I owe you one."

Sheerow fluttered back inside the castle before Ravio shut the door behind him. When he looked back, he saw his wife wander towards the edge of the walkway, placing her hands on the railing and gazing out towards the moonlit silhouette of Death Mountain. For a moment, he simply watched her, unable to read her expression beneath her dark, tousled hair. Then, finally, the queen shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

"...They're lovely tonight," she breathed. "The stars, the moon... our kingdom..."

"Yeah," said Ravio, tentatively approaching her and standing at her side, "they really are."

Hilda opened her eyes once more. "We've been remiss to not do this more often," she mused. "Day in, day out, we're forced to keep up our appearances, our dignities, for the sake of our people..." She turned to her husband with a weary smile. "If it weren't for you, Ravio... I would have all but forgotten my true self."

Ravio's face fell at her remark. "Hilda..."

"That - " she grimaced, " - _buffoon_ reminded me just how fruitless keeping appearances can be. No matter how hard one tries, the judgment of others is always imminent."

She stepped towards Ravio, embracing him tightly and nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck.

"...I'm sick of caring what they think," she said. "For once - just _once_ \- I only want to care about _us_."

Ravio found himself at a loss for words. For as long as he'd known her, he had worried about her perpetual queenly facade; her inability to think of herself and her own well being. So to hear her, for once in her life, expressing a desire to be selfish...

With a warm smile, he shut his eyes, returning her embrace and stroking her hair tenderly. "...It's all right, Hilda," he said. "We don't have to go back. We can stay right here - just the two of us."

She relaxed in his arms. "I would like that."

Moments passed, and for a while they did not dare break the silence; they merely held each other, delighting in each other's touch and the sounds and scents of the night. Finally, Hilda lifted her head, her swollen eyes alight with a happiness that she had only ever shown to him.

"...Ravio... could you sing for me? Please?"

Ravio blushed slightly, then chuckled. "...Really? You - you really _want_ me to this time?"

"I can think of nothing that would make me happier right now."

He looked around, as though making certain there were no prying ears. Then, he grinned. "Well, all right, but - promise you won't laugh?"

Hilda smirked. "I make no guarantees."

He shrugged. "Fair enough." He removed himself from her embrace just enough to lace his gloved fingers with hers. Then, after a moment's thought, he began to sing, softly at first.

" _When I close my eyes at night, I dream of your embrace,_ " he sang, " _and in my waking reveries, I see only your face..._ "

Her cheeks glowing pink, she turned her gaze away bashfully at his song choice; an old Lorulean folk song that even she knew well. "Goddesses, I should have known," she chuckled.

"Aww, come on, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't belt out a corny love song every now and then?" He lifted her hands slightly and continued his song. " _Don't matter what your folks say, don't matter what your friends say, don't matter what the Gods say - I belong with you..._ " he kissed her fingers, " _...and you belong with me._ "

The young queen couldn't suppress her giggling, try as she might. "If you're trying to woo me, Ravio, you're doing an awfully good job of it...!"

Ravio beamed. "Ha! Guess even a guy like me has his moments!" He placed a hand on her waist. "By the way... you still owe me that dance, remember?"

Hilda placed a hand on his shoulder. "Of course I remember," she said - however, she wasn't quite prepared for the enthusiasm with which her husband would respond, and she let out a yelp as she felt herself spinning about the walkway with him.

" _Your smile is like eternity, your laughter rings divine,_ " continued Ravio, this time far more eager and loud, " _I'll live my days in endless joy as long as you are mine...!_ "

Allowing herself to be swept away by his joyful antics, Hilda began to laugh once more. Then, in time with the song, Ravio gave her a twirl.

" _Don't matter what the people say -_ " he twirled her the opposite direction, " _\- don't matter what your cabinet says -_ " he dipped her, " _\- don't matter what_ Prince Jerkface _says...!_ "

Hilda's laughter turned into a slight squeal as she was dipped, and his irreverent parody of the song's original lyrics left her in even greater hysterics.

" _...You belong with me,_ " Ravio lifted her back up to face level as he finished his verse, " _and I belong with you!_ "

Raising a hand to her eye to brush away her tears of laughter, Hilda tried to catch her breath. "Haha... oh, goodness! I - I don't think I've laughed so hard in _ages_!"

Ravio joined in with a bright chuckle of his own. "Feels great, doesn't it?" He brushed a tuft of hair behind his wife's ear. "I'd do it more often if I were you."

"That ought to be fairly easy with you around."

"Are you kidding? Making you smile and laugh is what I was _born_ to do!" He sat down on the ground, gently leading Hilda to sit in his lap, her head resting on one bent knee. "...You know, Hilda, you get to hear me sing all the time, but - I don't think I ever get to hear _you_ very often."

"Eh?" Hilda's cheeks turned from a bright pink to a deep red, and she shut her eyes. "Ravio, _please_ , y-you know I'm not - "

"No, I _don't_ know!" He stroked her bangs. "Your voice is _beautiful_! You shouldn't have to feel ashamed of it!" He then lowered his face closer to hers. "...Would it kill you to sing the last verse for me?"

His proximity only flustering her more, Hilda bit her lip, hesitant to respond. Then, finally, she sighed, closing her eyes as she began the song's final verse, her voice smooth and delicate, yet wavering with uncertainty.

" _...Whatever troubles face us now... whatever storms we wear..._ " She gulped. " _I know that I can face them all, as long as you are there. Don't matter what your folks say, don't matter what your friends say, don't matter what the Gods say -_ "

" _We belong together,_ " they sang in unison as Ravio joined in, " _And together we will stay._ "

The queen and her prince then closed the gap between their lips. Any remaining reservations Hilda had were then cast aside, leaving only her feelings - her true feelings - for this man who could bring her so much light and happiness. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer, and began to unfasten his doublet, knocking the little crown upon his head to the ground in the process.

* * *

Indoors, Sheerow screeched at a small group of guards, fluttering about the door to the walkway to prevent them from coming close.

One of the younger guards looked at his fellows with a confused, "Uhhh..." then pointed to the tiny creature. "Shouldn't we... um... do something about... _that_?"

Another guard looked at him as though he were stupid. "Yeah, sure, if you want to it to make mincemeat out of your face." He eyed Sheerow warily. "His Highness' bird's got a _mean_ set of claws beneath those cute, tiny... feet... things."

A third guard, senior to the rest, simply sighed. "Well, it appears to acting on the prince's orders," he said, "so there's clearly a reason he doesn't want us around. I suppose we'll simply have to wait for - "

Just then, the doorway slammed open, nearly hitting Sheerow in the process. All the guards jumped at the sound, only to be rendered speechless by the sight of their prince, his hair and clothes somewhat disheveled and his face and neck covered in bright purple lipstick marks.

"Good evening, gentlemen!" said Ravio, grinning from ear to ear and somewhat short of breath. "If you're looking for Her Grace, she's a bit, uh... preoccupied at the moment...!"

The guards looked towards each other; one of them blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly, while the other bit his lip to suppress his chuckles.

"Unfortunately, she's not going to be able to make it back to the ball," Ravio began to twirl his crown around his finger, "but you can tell our guests that she is still very much looking forward to the summit tomorrow morning!" He caught the crown in his palm again and gave the guards a thumbs up. "In the meantime, you boys go and enjoy yourselves a drink, all right? Put it on ol' Ravio's tab!"

"Y..." the senior guard sighed a bit, then gave a small bow. "Yes, my liege..."

"Oh, and tell the good Prince Marcellus we said, 'hi'!" He began to shut the door, then reopened it just a crack. "Your kingdom thanks each and every one of you for your service...!"

With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving the bewildered (not to mention embarrassed) guards in stunned silence. Finally, the snickering man couldn't hold his amusement any longer; he broke into a series of unflattering snorts and chuckles, to which his superior responded with a firm _thwack_ to the back of his head.


End file.
